free to be able to rate and comment on reports (as well as access 1:25000 mapping).
Sheabhal? Heaval? The map I have says 'Heabhal'. Indeed, this map is the reason I've recently registered with walkhighlands. It's our first ever visit to The Western Isles, and rather than shell out on 9 OS Explorer maps, I've used the website to print off a selection walks from Barra to The Butt of Lewis that should give us some exercise over the next three weeks.
Whatever the spelling, this is our easy introduction, made even easier by driving up the road to the car park - walking from Castlebay may be a fine option for ferry foot passengers, but it would be a bit of a plod from last night's wild camping site on Vatersay. Any guilt we feel for having driven the first two-thirds of this route is quickly assuaged by the brutally obvious fact that 75% of the ascent still remains to be done.
The directions (which I have also printed off) are a bit redundant as the only way is up, but they are spot on - faint paths, as promised, come and go - and after the slightly damp start, the ground soon becomes dry and steep. Steep enough to make me puff. I'd like to suggest to Jill that as we've been going for a good two minutes, it's probably time for a rest, but my wife is already 30m ahead and powering upwards. My usual ploy of sneaking a couple of rocks into her rucsac to slow her down is foiled by the fact that this morning, I'm the only one carrying a sack. Today is Jill's birthday and what with the excitement of getting a wife and campervan from the Dorset coast to the Outer Hebrides, I've failed to acquire anything remotely like a card or present. Never mind, she'll be very happy with a spot of hillwalking in the sun, even though her preference would probably be a 3000m alpine peak rather than a Hebridean hill well below any snowline.
- Virgin, Child & Wife (not necessarily in that order)
I finally catch up with Jill while she's making friends with The Virgin and Child. I thought she would be bigger. Not my wife, obviously, I'm well aware of her diminutive stature, but at 1.6m she towers over her new white buddy. I'm not sure what to make of the monument - it is visually intrusive in the natural landscape, it hasn't been there long enough to gain 'heritage' status (it was erected in my lifetime), yet it was put there by the locals to honour both their war dead and their religious faith and provides a point of interest during an ascent lacking much other variety. Viewed from behind, black lichen is doing its best to tone down the vivid whiteness, but I suspect she gets cleaned on a regular basis.
Before my 'aesthetic prejudices' rant becomes too extreme, Jill drags me away and up to the trig point, where I am soothed by the splendour of the view. Never mind the slightly hazy horizon, there are enough islands visible in the sparkling blue sea to keep us goggling for ages. This is doing another of my prejudices absolutely no good at all - I'm convinced Scotland is The Land of Eternal Rain - every three years or so we make the long trek north and it inevitably rains and blows for a solid month. Each time we leave vowing never to return, yet here we are again and the weather is gorgeous. Our May Day ferry trip from Oban yesterday was all blue skies and flat calm seas, complete with dancing dolphins and skimming shearwaters, and while there's a bit of a breeze ruffling the bay around Kisimul Castle, the sunshine is a pleasant surprise.
We descend the same way, escorted by a pair of ravens. I'm planning another birthday treat for Jill this afternoon. A second walk! I've got my very own treat to look forward to as well. Emptying out the toilet cassette at the ferry port chemical disposal point. Oh joy!
